


if we don’t burn, how will the night be lit?

by IllyriatheSmurf7



Category: portrait of a lady on fire
Genre: F/F, First Time, Fluff, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21665029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllyriatheSmurf7/pseuds/IllyriatheSmurf7
Summary: "Do all lovers feel like they’re inventing something?”(Or what happened on that first night together)
Relationships: Marianne & Héloïse, Marianne/Héloïse
Comments: 55
Kudos: 800





	if we don’t burn, how will the night be lit?

“You dreamed of me?”

“No… I thought of you.”

Marianne lulls her head back against Héloïse with the confession, whispered hotly against her neck in a way that makes her feel like her body is melting away and turning into liquid heat. She completely surrenders to Héloïse’s touch, following the delicate press of the girl’s hand on her neck and turning her face with her eyes closed. When Héloïse finally kisses her, her lips are soft against Marianne’s, and yet certain. There is no despair nor tentativeness this time,just a calm, mutual yearning, so apparent in the way they wrap their arms around each other, how they chase each other’s mouth to make that kiss as endless as possible.

They break apart, even then barely so, only when Héloïse’s hands slide down from Marianne’s neck to her chest, teasing at the fabric of her dress. Marianne gazes down at Héloïse’s fingers, watching how the girl slowly unbuttons the front of her top, then her eyes fall closed again and she leans in, to softly press her lips on Héloïse’s cheek and at the corner of her mouth. She can feel how quivering Héloïse’s breath is against the skin of her face, but there is no hesitation to her movements. Héloïse undresses her with the confidence that comes from being able to finally act on her desires, and Marianne finds herself shivering while thinking that she was the one to ignite such a burning need within the other girl. It’s yet another thing in which they are the same, Marianne burns just as intensely for Héloïse.

Once her top hits the floor with a soft whoosh, Marianne reaches behind her back to untie her corset while Héloïse unclasps the pins holding her skirt up. She steps out of both garments at once until she is standing only in her gown, watching Héloïse watch her as the girl does the same with her own blue dress. They take a moment to observe each other after shedding almost all their clothes. Their quiet breathing sounds heavy in the silence of the room, interrupted only by the crackling of the fire in the fireplace, but when Héloïse rests her hand over Marianne’s chest like she had done before kissing her, and moves her fingers across her collarbone and shoulder, Marianne feels her heart pound so hard inside her chest she wonders if Héloïse might be able to not only feel but _hear_ the effect she has on her.

She knows what Héloïse wants to do without her having to utter a single word. They keep looking at each other as Héloïse’s fingers slide under the hem of Marianne’s gown. Marianne doesn’t even have to nod, it’s all in her eyes. Still, her body trembles when Héloïse pushes at the light fabric and the gown slides down, leaving Marianne completely naked before Héloïse’s eyes.

And Héloïse is shameless in how she looks at her, letting her gaze travel slowly up and down Marianne’s body, taking in every minute detail with such an intensity in her eyes that Marianne feels her own mouth run dry. There is no self-consciousness to being looked at like this for her, not when it’s Héloïse who is looking at her, curious and eager and reverent. A twinge of need makes Marianne throb deep in her core when Héloïse’s eyes meet hers again and Marianne sees just how dark they have become.

“Let your hair down,” Héloïse suddenly whispers, to Marianne’s surprise.

“Why?” she asks.

“Because I’ve never seen you that way.”

For so long, Héloïse had been such a riddle to Marianne that even now she was conditioned to expect a complex explanation for such a request. And yet, it’s exactly its simplicity that makes it impossible to resist for Marianne. The painter does as told, pulling the pins out of her hair and letting her dark locks fall down over her shoulders. Héloïse blinks at the sight, her lips part lightly, and then she mimics Marianne’s movements, bringing her hands to the back of her head and letting down her blonde hair. A loose strand cascades over her face and lightly conceals her gaze, but Héloïse’s eyes never leave Marianne. She looks incredibly soft in Marianne’s eyes, and yet stronger than ever, as if Marianne was watching an ardent spirit breaking free of any constraint and being finally fully unveiled in front of her, for her.

“Have you seen many nude women in your life?” Héloïse asks quietly, keeping her eyes on Marianne. The painter wasn’t expecting the question, but she nods after a moment.

“I’ve painted them.”

Héloïse bites at her lip then and her throat bobs visibly. It’s the most nervous Marianne has ever seen her look, even if she is the one with no clothes on.

“I’ve never been naked for anyone before,” Héloïse whispers, and Marianne feels like her heart is going to burst out of her chest when she watches Héloïse reach for the hem of her gown. She hesitates for a moment, her gaze always fixed on Marianne, then she lets the gown slide down, making herself as bare as Marianne is.

Marianne keeps her gaze on Héloïse’s face at first, watching a blush spread over her cheeks, faint but visible even in the darkness of the room. The look in her eyes is unmistakable, though. Like when she had posed for Marianne after catching her drawing her sleeping form, what Héloïse wants from her is evident. So Marianne looks at her. 

She lets her eyes move slowly down Héloïse's body, observing mesmerized every feature she had secretly already imagined, from the swell of her breasts to the soft slope of her stomach. Her imagination could never do Héloïse justice, though, Héloïse only allows to be truly seen on her own terms, anything else is a pale, void imitation. Marianne learned that when she tried to paint her image in secret. And now, looking at Héloïse like this, naked and vulnerable and determined in what she wants, Marianne truly realizes the power of Héloïse’s words when she had told her they were in the exact same position. They are, they share this equally, the intimacy and the vulnerability and the burning desire.

Once she meets Héloïse’s gaze again, Marianne takes one step forward, closing the already small space between them. Her heartbeat ticks up when she hears just how deep and shaky Héloïse’s breath is against the skin of her face.

“Are you still scared?” she asks softly, tucking that beautiful, maddening blonde strand behind Héloïse’s ear.

“No,” Héloïse whispers. “And yes.”

She leans in then,pressing her forehead against Marianne’s and closing her eyes for a moment. Marianne inhales heavily when she feels her reach for her hand and guide it down her body, to rest over her chest. Héloïse’s skin is softer than she could have ever imagined, warm like her breath against her lips, and the strong, steady thumping of her heart under the swell of her left breast seem to propagate from Marianne’s palm all the way through her body.

Marianne glances down at herself touching Héloïse. She wishes she could immortalize this moment on her canvas, she commits the image and the feeling to memory, moving her hand across Héloïse’s chest and down her stomach to feel more of her. She wants to feel everything. She pauses though, feeling the light shivers running beneath Héloïse’s skin, and rather than exploring more, she curls her hand around Héloïse’s and returns the gesture, bringing the girl’s palm over her own chest. Her eyelids flutter at the touch, and with the small, sharp inhale she hears coming from Héloïse, but Marianne forces to keep her eyes open, not wanting to miss a single moment of this.

“It's strange…” Héloïse whispers suddenly, looking at her own hand on Marianne's breast, after silence had stretched between them so deeply that Marianne had forgotten they could do more than just sigh and tremble. Marianne wants to ask what is, if maybe experiencing intimacy for the first time, but the question dies down in her mouth when Héloïse inches closer and splays her other hand over her stomach, caressing her skin and curling her fingers over her ribs. It’s such a deliberate touch that Marianne finds herself blinking quickly and sighing with the feeling. 

“I read books I wasn't supposed to, here and in convent,” Héloïse continues, mapping Marianne's skin with her hands, moving the one on Marianne's breast to the center, to trace the dip of her sternum with her fingertips and up, across her collarbones. “Stories about forbidden loves. Even in the most passionate, the female lovers were always so... quiescent. Always waiting to be raptured. Taken…” 

She looks up and meets Marianne's gaze, hooded with desire. They are so close their lips could touch if only Héloïse tilted her head forward just barely. 

“But it's different with you,” Héloïse says, curling her hand behind Marianne's neck and resting the other over the jut of her hipbone. “I don't feel quiescent at all.” 

Marianne is breathing through her mouth, troubled like never before, completely unable to hide the effect Héloïse has on her. Green eyes fall on her lips and Marianne knows that she doesn't want to hide it at all, she wants Héloïse to see everything of her. 

“How do you feel then?”

A shiver runs down Marianne's spine when Héloïse traces her bottom lip with her thumb. 

“I feel…" Héloïse lets out a trembling breath and meets Marianne's gaze. “I feel like I'm going to burn if I don't touch you.”

Marianne kisses Héloïse at that, no longer able to resist the physical pull towards the other girl. She curls a hand behind Héloïse's neck and kisses her, deep and pressing and yet unhurried, sighing into Héloïse's mouth when she feels her respond to the kiss right away, opening her mouth and tentatively tracing Marianne's lip with her tongue.

They move to the bed with purpose rather than just falling onto it, lying one next to the other as they continue kissing, slow and languid in a way that makes both shiver. Marianne sighs when she feels Héloïse's hands on her body, traveling from her arm to her torso to her stomach as if she is trying to map every inch of her skin. Marianne lets her do as she pleases, lets Héloïse touch and explore her with her hands and lips. And Héloïse is indeed curious, pulling back from the kiss to look at her own hands on Marianne's chest. She glances up at Marianne only for a moment, then she buries her face into Marianne’s neck and latches on to her skin with her lips, making Marianne gasp at the feeling. 

She instinctively clenches her thighs together when she feels Héloïse's hands travel down her stomach without stopping, but before she can reach between her legs, Marianne wraps her fingers around Héloïse's wrist and opens her eyes. 

“Wait.”

Héloïse immediately pulls back when she hears Marianne's voice, her brows scrunched together in a confused frown that makes Marianne smile. She runs her thumb over the crease on Héloïse's forehead and then lower, on her bottom lip. 

“Isn't that the way?” Héloïse asks after a moment, her voice a hot, whispered breath. Marianne kisses her instead of answering, long enough that she actually feels Héloïse relax against her and melt into the kiss. She settles comfortably on her back once they pull apart, and gently pulls Héloïse on top of her. That same clenching need between her legs resurfaces even stronger when she catches sight of Héloïse's eyes, wide and dark at the sight of the naked body underneath her.

“Don't rush it,” Marianne says, rubbing her thumbs soothingly over Héloïse's thighs on each side of her. She reaches up and takes hold of Héloïse's hand, guiding it down and over her stomach, her muscles underneath the skin clenching instinctively with the feeling of Héloïse's warm palm on her.

“Take your time to look.” Marianne looks down at Héloïse’s hand on the plane of her abdomen and the other girl is quick to follow her gaze and truly start to look at her. They both breathe through their mouths, deep and heavy, when Marianne guides Héloïse's hand up and over her breast. “Feel me.”

Marianne's eyes fall closed when Héloïse unexpectedly reaches down with her free hand and touches her other breast.

“I can feel your heart,” Héloïse whispers, her eyes locked on her hands over Marianne’s breast. Marianne doesn’t have to guide her any longer. She lets her hand drop on the bed and splays herself freely for Héloïse to explore. Héloïse is gentle when she squeezes at her breasts, feeling them in her hands and brushing her thumbs against Marianne’s nipples in a way that causes her to have to stifle a whimper. She opens her eyes to look at Héloïse and finds the other girl staring intently at her chest, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide, curious, as if mesmerized by every reaction she can get out of Marianne. 

She moves her hands down slowly, dragging her palms across Marianne’s sensitive ribs. When she looks up and locks gaze with Marianne for a moment, Marianne sees a flash of desire in Héloïse’s eyes, so intense that it makes her feel like a fire just started underneath her skin. It burns only hotter and forces a gasp out of her mouth when, unexpectedly, Héloïse leans down and wraps her lips around her left nipple.

Marianne’s hands instinctively fly to Héloïse’s hair, her fingers curling in the blonde locks to keep the girl there. Héloïse doesn’t seem to have any intention to move anyway, her warm mouth kissing and sucking gently at Marianne’s sensitive skin. Marianne can’t help but whimper and squirm underneath Héloïse when she feels her tongue against the pebbled tip of her nipple. The coil in her lower belly tightens and tightens with each kiss across her tender skin, with each careful squeeze of Héloïse’s palm on her other breast, before Héloïse switches side and starts paying the same attention to Marianne’s right breast with her mouth. 

“Your skin tastes like…” she whispers after pulling away for a brief moment but she doesn’t finish the sentence. She immediately latches her lips onto Marianne’s skin again, moving up to kiss at the dips of her collarbones and the length of her neck. It’s slower than before, she lingers with every kiss in such a languid, desirous way that Marianne finds herself shuddering with the feeling. She sighs Héloïse’s name when the girl sucks gently over her pulse point. 

“You’re shaking…” Héloïse’s hot breath hits Marianne’s wet skin and only adds to her trembling. “Is it pleasurable?” 

At the question, Marianne cups Héloïse’s cheeks with both hands and pulls her in for a deep, wet kiss that has both girls sigh with need.

It’s Héloïse who breaks the kiss this time, pulling back in a way that makes Marianne instinctively reach up to chase the other girl’s mouth. She quickly drops her head back on the pillow, though, when she feels Héloïse’s palm on her neck, running down the length of it and then splaying her fingers over her collarbone. 

Marianne is mesmerized by the sight of the girl on top of her, looking down at her with dark eyes and disheveled hair. She is painfully aware of where Héloïse is sitting, her warm skin pressing against Marianne’s low abdomen. More than anything in the world, Marianne wants to grind up and get some friction against her throbbing core, but she restrains her need and wills herself to wait for whatever Héloïse wants. 

Her control all but dissolves, though, when Héloïse bites her own lip and, after a nervous pause, whispers “I want to touch you.”

Marianne feels her mouth run dry at the whispered confession, rendered speechless by the intensity in Héloïse’s eyes, the purposeful way with which the girl slides her thumb down Marianne’s throat and rests it in the hollow of her neck. All she can do is nod. Nod and shiver at the feeling of Héloïse’s hands moving down her chest and stomach, fingers stopping right above her mound. 

Héloïse slides back to sit on Marianne’s thighs, but despite the confidence in expressing her desire, Marianne immediately perceives Héloïse’s hesitation once she looks down between her legs. Héloïse’s throat bobs up and down in a way that betrays her nervousness, but nevertheless, Marianne feels her fingertips inch closer at the apex of her thighs, maddeningly close to where she needs to be touched the most. When Héloïse first touches her, it’s just one tentative swipe through Marianne’s slit, one that immediately stops and yet is enough to make Marianne gasp and clench her muscles. Her reaction makes Héloïse’s eyes shoot up and look at her, curious and worried and excited at once. When she presses her fingers between Marianne’s legs again, not moving, Marianne reaches for Héloïse’s arm and pulls the girl down, close to her. Héloïse starts moving right after, swallowing Marianne’s sighs with a kiss.

Héloïse can feel how wet Marianne is under her touch, how smoothly she can glide through her folds with her fingers, how Marianne’s sighs hitch up and then grow deeper when she rubs at the top of her slit. She pulls slightly back to look at Marianne’s face, taking in the flush on her cheeks, her lips parted with each breath. Her gaze travels down between Marianne’s legs when she feels the other girl unexpectedly grind up into her touch, She watches herself touch Marianne, feeling her own cheeks flare up at the sight but unable to look away. 

After her first, explorative touches, Héloïse moves her fingers lower, searching for Marianne’s entrance, but her eyes immediately shoot back up to Marianne’s face when the other girl covers her hand with her palm and stops her, guiding her fingers back up in a rubbing motion and then on a specific spot at the top of her slit. 

“Does that feel good?” Héloïse asks and Marianne nods slowly, keeping her eyes closed and her face pressed against the side of the pillow. The heaving of her chest seems to grow stronger with each swipe of Héloïse’s fingers on her center, so Héloïse looks down at her own hand, making a mental note of where her fingers are pressing.

It’s all slower than she was expecting, there is no rush to get to the end of it. Marianne just lies beneath her completely lost in her touch, sighing and moving in a way Héloïse couldn’t have imagined even in her most secret fantasies. Marianne seems satisfied with Héloïse touching her just like that, and yet, Héloïse can’t help her own curiosity because what little she knows of sex is very different from what they are doing. 

“Shouldn’t I…” 

Marianne opens her eyes and looks at Héloïse when she hears her hesitation. 

“What?” she says and Héloïse bites her lip nervously before finding the will to ask directly. 

“Aren’t I supposed to… enter you?”

Marianne stares at her after the question, silent and intensely and long enough to make Héloïse’s cheeks burn even redder. Marianne on her part feels on the edge of falling apart because of the question alone, held back only by the tenderness that Héloïse’s naive curiosity spreads through her. She cups Héloïse’s cheek with one hand and presses a soft kiss at the corner of her mouth. 

“You aren’t supposed to,” she says with a low voice she barely recognizes. 

“What you’re doing is already so—” A whimpered gasp escapes from her lips when Héloïse resumes her circling patterns over her clit right after hearing her words. Marianne closes her eyes and settles into the feeling, trying to stay grounded by pressing her forehead against Héloïse’s. 

“So you only want this?” Héloïse asks, and Marianne shakes her head, frantic almost.

“No,” she says. “There are…” she swallows heavily and pulls back to look at Héloïse in the eyes. “There are no rules with this. Just what you like… what you want.”

“What do you want, then?” Héloïse asks hotly. Her breathing, just as labored as Marianne’s, gets stuck in her throat once Marianne finally answers.

“I want you inside me.”

Héloïse’s eyes go slightly wide with the direct request. Her fingers still for a moment, her gaze locked with Marianne’s and burning through her. Then, she slides her fingers lower. It’s a tentative movement, awkward almost, and Héloïse has to pull back slightly and look at what she is doing, but eventually, Marianne feels Héloïse’s fingertips press against her entrance, forcing an involuntary jerk of her hips with the sudden feeling. 

Héloïse’s eyes dart back and forth between Marianne’s face and her hand between her legs, eager to make sure she is doing things right. She knows Marianne has had other experiences before but the concern that she might hurt her keeps burning in the back of her mind. Marianne seems to understand her hesitation with just one look at her, and comes to her aid, soothingly caressing her cheek again. 

“Go slow,” she says. “Feel me with one finger first.” 

Héloïse nods and kisses her, soft and quick. Then, breathing against Marianne’s mouth, she does as told, carefully sliding one finger inside Marianne.

Marianne’s entire body arches up with the push, a staggered breath crawls out of her mouth and turns into a moan that leaves Héloïse in awe of what she is seeing, feeling. It is nothing like she was expecting, there is barely any resistance to her push and yet Marianne feels soft and snug around her, warm in a way she couldn’t have imagined. She pauses after sliding in completely, taking time to look at Marianne’s face and at her body, how her chest heaves up with each deep breath, how she bends one of her legs to the side to make more room for her, as if she wanted Héloïse even closer than they already are, closer than physically possible. 

She doesn’t have to ask Marianne for guidance this time, the involuntary rolling of her hips tells her exactly what to do. So as carefully as she pushed in, Héloïse slides almost all the way out and then in again, setting up a slow rhythm that has both struggling for air.

Héloïse almost falls down when Marianne hooks an arm around her back and pulls her close to her, whispering her name over and over in a way that makes Héloïse feel tight and throbbing in her belly and lower, between her legs. Marianne’s reactions keep changing, her breathing grows deeper, tinged with little sounds she can’t hold back, and even the way she feels around Héloïse changes, as if her body was reacting to her touch from within. 

When she pulls out again and adds pressure with another finger, Marianne nods against her face, rocking her hips up into Héloïse’s touch, and the moaned kiss the painter presses against her mouth when she finally slides in with two fingers leaves Héloïse aching with the need to know what she is making Marianne feel.

She doesn’t know for how long she is supposed to continue, she just keeps going because Marianne seems to enjoy it more and more. She starts breathing raggedly at some point, and her body starts visibly shaking underneath Héloïse’s. Héloïse feels and sees the trembling in her thighs, she feels her grow tighter around her fingers, and she might have followed her instinct to have slow down and ask Marianne if she was okay if not for Marianne’s ragged, desperate plea, as if in tune with Héloïse’s mind even at the height of her pleasure. 

“Don’t stop.”

So, Héloïse continues, trusting Marianne with something she is eager to learn and understand, and witness. And when the ache in her wrist pushes her to readjust her position and she ends up involuntarily pressing her palm against Marianne’s bundle of nerves, it becomes immediately clear to her why Marianne had begged her not to stop. She watches mesmerized as Marianne’s body locks for seconds that feel eternal, eyes scrunched shut and mouth agape. Then, a high-pitched moan pushes out of her throat and her entire body jerks violently. Marianne digs her fingers into Héloïse’s back, clinging to her as her body twitches out of her control, and Héloïse lets her take everything she needs, trying her best to continue her movements as Marianne writhes underneath her and moans against her skin.

It feels like an eternity has passed and not remotely enough at once when Marianne finally drops back down on the bed, panting and shaking even after Héloïse has stilled inside her. Her skin is flushed and slick with sweat, there is a lazy, amazed smile on her face, and once she finally opens her eyes and looks at her, Héloïse realizes that the image of Marianne like this, in that moment, is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen in herentire life. 

She goes willingly when Marianne pulls her down for a soft, languid kiss, whimpering softly when she carefully pulls away and feels Marianne shudder against her. She can feel her hot wetness cling to her fingers and there is this a doubt in the back of her mind about what she should do, if she is allowed to touch Marianne like that. The other girl takes her concerns away right away, though, when she blindly reaches for her hand and brings it to her lips, kissing her palm and knuckles before going back to kissing Héloïse’s mouth even more softly than before.

“That was…” Marianne sighs once they break the kiss, ending her sentence with a whispered, delighted laugh. Héloïse shuffles to the side and lies down next to Marianne, smiling at the painter’s words and the way she snuggles close to her.

“You were so beautiful,” Héloïse whispers, unable to hide her wonder over how Mariannehad looked at the height of her pleasure, and how she looks now, peaceful and sated and evidently happy.

“Thanks to you,” Marianne answers with a soft smile that makes Héloïse’s heart swell in her chest.

“Did you enjoy it?” she asks. Marianne nods, mindlessly tracing the features of Héloïse’s face. 

“Greatly.” 

Héloïse’s smile stretches into a wide grin she cannot contain, and she buries her face into the pillow for a moment before turning her head again and kissing Marianne, addicted to the taste of her lips even more than before.

They kiss slowly for a while, an unhurried glide of their lips and tongue that makes Héloïse feel like she is melting away and becoming one with Marianne. Her hand moves lazily up and down Marianne’s side, across the curve of her breast and down over the wide plane of her back. 

She is aware of the fact that Marianne is doing the same to her, caressing her body in a way that makes her tingle and causes the throbbing between her legs to grow, a feeling that had remained present the whole time. She pulls back to look at Marianne’s face, searching her green, hooded eyes. 

“What did you feel?” she asks, and Marianne tilts her head to the side interrogatively. 

“At the end,” Héloïse explains. “When you told me not to stop. What were you feeling?”

Marianne’s eyes lose any trace of tiredness after the question, growing dark with barely suppressed desire. Despite the intensity of her gaze, her voice remains surprisingly soft when she asks Héloïse, “Do you want me to show you?” 

Héloïse’s eyes widen with the question and she suddenly feels nervous, remembering just how out of control Marianne had become in those final moments. So used to a life of complete restraint, she struggles with imagining herself reaching that state. But even with all the worries running through her mind, Marianne’s question only makes the throbbing and stickiness between her legs grow to an unbearable degree. It is exactly because of those restraints that Héloïse is desperate to know, to experience everything she can in Marianne’s safe arms. The trust she has in her is absolute, and there is nothing she wants more than Marianne’s hands on her now. She is nodding and whispering “yes” before even realizing that she is.

Héloïse lets Marianne roll her on her back and get on top of her, in a reversal of their positions before. She looks at Marianne and swallows hard, feeling more vulnerable than ever lying beneath her completely bare. There is a sort of exhilaration that comes with it, though, with exposing herself to Marianne’s eyes and touch with the knowledge that Marianne sees her like no other, that she doesn’t want to consume her but wants to show her something new, something they both agreed to.

Marianne’s gaze travels across Héloïse’s naked body, taking in every small detail. Her hands are delicate on Héloïse’s skin, and Héloïse finds herself thinking about the way she paints, how she handles her brush and pencils. Marianne is touching her with the same care she dedicates to her art, and that thought alone is enough to make Héloïse shiver. Shivers that quickly turn into a quiet gasp when Marianne moves her hands up Héloïse’s stomach and wraps them gently around her breasts.

“It isn’t easy to explain,” Marianne says, circling Héloïse’s nipples until they are stiff peaks. She smiles noticing the way Héloïse squirms lightly underneath her with the touch, involuntarily trying to squeeze her thighs. 

“Do you feel that tension?” she asks. “In your belly. The pressure between your legs?”

Héloïse nods slowly, even more aware of it now that Marianne brought her attention to it. 

“I felt it before.” 

The confession slips through her lips before Héloïse can stop herself, and Marianne’s hands immediately still. The painter looks at her with curiosity and barely tamed hunger. 

“When?” 

“When I thought of you,” Héloïse whispers. “But it never…” she bites her lips, not knowing how to continue and feeling especially self-conscious of her lack of experience compared to Marianne. 

“I stopped. Trying to find relief only made it worse,” she whispers eventually, forcing herself to keep looking at Marianne.

Marianne doesn’t do or say anything for several moments, seemingly stunned by Héloïse’s confession. Héloïse watches her eyes grow even darker than they already were, taking in the shadows of the room and turning a deep grey, but that darkness never becomes overwhelming to Héloïse. It only draws her in, a simmering flame balanced by the tenderness of the smile that spreads on Marianne’s face. 

“It can be difficult when you don’t know what to expect,” the painter says, resuming her soft caresses over Héloïse’s body. “But that pressure can turn into the most pleasurable of releases.” 

She moves her hands back down, to cup the sides of Héloïse’s torso, and Héloïse can’t help but let out a long, deep exhale when Marianne leans down and presses her lips over one of her breasts, like she had done with her. 

“You did that for me,” Marianne whispers against Héloïse’s skin between kisses, keeping her lips soft and moving over Héloïse’s sensitive flesh. It’s such a tender, careful way of touching her and yet Héloïse feels like her heart is going to burst through her chest by the time Marianne finally wraps her lips around her nipple.

Héloïse presses her head back into the pillow and arches her chest up, pushing into Marianne’s mouth as pleasure spreads from where Marianne is kissing and sucking at her skin down to her core. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands, it only feels natural to her to push them into Marianne’s hair, scratching at her scalp as she feels the other girl smile against her breast. 

Marianne’s lips move across her chest, paying equal attention to each detail of Héloïse’s body. Héloïse feels them on the hard edge of her sternum, over the soft swell of her other breast, around the pebbled peak of her nipple, and each kiss and glide of Marianne’s tongue makes her skin feel more and more ablaze. She gasps even louder when she feels Marianne move her lips lower, dragging her open mouth across her stomach to kiss right above her navel and then dip her tongue in, making Héloïse clench her muscles involuntarily.

So lost in the pleasure and new sensations caused by Marianne’s mouth, Héloïse almost doesn’t notice Marianne’s hands traveling lower down her body, but her eyes snap open when she feels a delicate pressure on the jut of her hip, fingers inching slowly towards her center. Marianne’s touch is nothing but pleasurable, it only makes Héloïse crave more, crave to feel what she made Marianne feel, and yet she cannot help the wave of apprehension that suddenly washes over her, not at all tied to what Marianne is doing to her but rather to the little knowledge she has of how sex is supposed to be for someone with no experience like her. 

Her hands go still in Marianne’s hair and her eyes fixate on the ceiling as she forces herself to pace her breathing and get rid of her worries. But it’s only after a short moment that her vision is obscured and she finds herself face to face with Marianne, her green eyes tinged with confusion and concern. So wrapped in her own thoughts, Héloïse hadn’t even realized that the girl had stopped touching her.

“You’ve tensed,” Marianne says, caressing Héloïse’s cheek with a tenderness that makes her let out a shaky breath. 

“I’m sorry,” Heloise says, biting her lip and smiling nervously. 

“Did I do something you didn’t want?” Marianne asks and Héloïse shakes her head right away, eager to ease whatever concern Marianne might have over her own actions. 

“No,” she answers, fidgeting with her fingers and letting out another shaky exhale. Marianne doesn’t ask further, she waits patiently for Héloïse to explain herself as she continues to caress her cheek. 

“You are the first person to touch me,” Héloïse eventually says, forcing herself to look at Marianne. “You are the first. And… thinking about the pain I’m going to feel unnerved me for a moment, but I just want to get past it so—” 

“Wait,” Marianne stops her, looking at her with pure confusion in her eyes. “Pain… you think it will have to hurt?”

The confusion and surprise in Marianne’s eyes makes Héloïse second-guess everything she thought she knew at once and yet she can’t help but cling to those facts that have been ingrained in her mind. 

“Isn’t it supposed to?” she asks. “Because of…” she hesitates,finding it particularly hard to be as straightforward as she usually is while discussing something so intimate out loud, and she feels blood rush to her ears,suddenly shy despite lying completely naked beneath another naked woman. Still, she swallows back the nervousness and decides to be direct, tired of dwelling for so long on something she didn’t even want to think about.

“When you’re entered for the first time while your virtue is still—”

“Virtue?” 

As realization washes over Marianne all of a sudden, an amused, soft smile stretches on her face, and her eyes lose any trace of concern, replaced instead by a tender look. She lets out a quiet laugh that, in anyone else’s mouth, Héloïse might have read as mocking, but with Marianne, it only sounds reassuring, and Héloïse lets herself be soothed, as Marianne gently rubs her knuckles over Héloïse’s cheekbone and then lower, to trace her full lip with her thumb. 

“Yes, it can hurt,” the painter says. “But it doesn’t have to. It’s not supposed to. It only happens if the person you’re with is a bad lover.”

“But aren’t men supposed to—” 

“Most men don’t care,” Marianne interrupts her, leaning down to place a soft kiss on Héloïse’s lips. “About our pleasure. Our desires.” 

She moves her lips to Héloïse’s jaw, kissing up the sharp line of her bone until she reaches the spot below Héloïse’s ear, making her shiver with each soft press of her lips. 

“I do.” 

Héloïse swallows hard and her eyelids flutter with the feeling, melting more and more under Marianne’s lips and forgetting all her concerns. 

“It should never hurt,” Marianne whispers in her ear, tracing the sensitive shell with the tip of her tongue and making Héloïse tremble. Whatever she might have thought true about sex, whatever doubts might have made her stall, it’s nothing against the absolute certainty that Marianne could never touch her in a way that hurts her. And it’s nothing against the burning realization that, more than anything in the world, she wants and _needs_ Marianne to touch her. Truly touch her. 

“Show me,” Héloïse says, grabbing Marianne’s face when the girl leans back and pulling her into a deep, sucking kiss that leaves both out of breath. “How it should be.” 

Marianne responds to the kiss just as passionately, wrapping her hand behind Héloïse’s neck and pulling her up to deepen the kiss even more. Héloïse is panting by the time she drops back down on the pillow. She splays her arms on each side of her head, leaving herself completely exposed and vulnerable to Marianne. The girl is quick to repay that trust, touch and kissing her body in a way that makes Héloïse feel like she is turning every nerve under her skin alive, finding every sensitive spot and focusing on it until the pressure Marianne was talking about grows unbearable and she finds herself whimpering with need.

She tenses again for a moment when she feels Marianne’s fingers on her inner thigh, but unlike before, she doesn’t let nerves stop her. She locks gaze with Marianne, looking at her with clear intent and trust, and rolls her hips up, silently telling Marianne what she wants. It’s the painter this time who goes slow, content with just rubbing lazy circles on the sensitive skin of Héloïse’s thigh, and slowly inching up, until she can feel Héloïse’s dampness against the tip of her fingers. 

“If you don’t enjoy it…” 

“Touch me,” Héloïse interrupts her, looking at Marianne and nodding with confidence. Marianne kisses her again, softly this time, and Héloïse’s hands instinctively reach around the girl to keep her close and prolong the kiss. It’s in that moment that Marianne draws her fingers up and finally, as Héloïse begged her to do, she touches her.

The touch immediately forces a gasp out of Héloïse’s mouth. She tightens her fingers behind Marianne’s neck and into her back, clinging to her as she settles into the feeling of being touched so intimately for the first time. It is something she has done before to herself, this rubbing motion that Marianne has started. And yet, despite recognizing the gestures, what Marianne is doing is nothing like what she has tried with herself. Where she was tentative, timid, Marianne touches her with purpose, knowing exactly which pace to use, what spots to focus on to give Héloïse the most pleasurable sensation. 

Héloïse recognizes Marianne’s desires in those movements, she remembers how the painter had guided her fingers to a specific spot, the same she is focusing on now. Only now does she truly understand, though, why Marianne had made her take her time there. When Marianne starts drawing small circles on the bundle of nerves at the top of her slit, Héloïse feels an explosion of pleasure between her legs unlike anything she had ever felt before, like flaming waves propagating from that small spot and licking up her body, leaving her breathless. 

Her body quakes beneath Marianne’s with the feeling, her chest heaves and each breath turns into a small, strained moan she can’t hold back. She squirms and moves her hips but each movement only seems to make the burning feeling grow more and more. Her arms drop on the bed when Marianne pulls back to look at her, hands clenching at the sheets and the bed frame as Marianne’s gaze only seems to heighten her pleasure.

Héloïse arches up when Marianne kisses her and softly drags her teeth over her bottom lip, soothing the light sting with her tongue, and she gasps and rocks her hips in a desperate plea for something she doesn’t even know. What Marianne is making her feel goes beyond any notion of pleasure she had, and yet with the pleasure the aching tension in her lower belly keeps rising too, growing more and more unbearable with each second. Had she been alone, she would have stopped touching herself long ago, but she is not alone. It’s Marianne who is touching her, Marianne who promised to show her how sex should feel, how much pleasure her body can take.

Héloïse’s eyes goes wide when she feels Marianne’s fingertips move down and circle her entrance. The other girl has pulled back again to look at her. There is a silent question in her eyes, tender and caring even more than they already were. Looking at her like that, Héloïse doesn’t know how she could have had any doubt about Marianne’s ability to take care of her. She has no idea what to expect, her only experience being observing Marianne while she was touching her in the same way, but she wants nothing more than to discover it through Marianne’s touch. 

She doesn’t even say it out loud, she just nods and rolls her hips up, encouraging Marianne to continue. Without waiting any longer, Marianne slides in.

The slow push knocks the breath out of Héloïse’s chest. Her eyes widen despite her scrunched up features and the tension that ripples through her body, her mouth opens to let out a gasp that remains stuck in her throat. She clasps Marianne’s back much more tightly than she means to, her muscles clenching and tightening involuntarily with the feeling of Marianne pushing inside her, something unlike anything she had ever experienced or imagined. 

Marianne is careful beyond words, inching torturously slowly inside her and stopping to give Héloïse time to adjust to the new sensation. Héloïse manages to suck oxygen into her lungs only once Marianne slides fully inside her and stills, her careful, caring eyes fixed on her face to look for any sign of discomfort.

“Are you alright?” she asks, leaning down to press the ghost of a kiss on the strained line of Héloïse neck and then even more softly on her lips. Héloïse doesn’t answer. She closes her eyes and lets out a long, shaky breath, willing her body to lose the tension accumulated despite her will. She lets herself focus on the new sensation, allowing herself to _think_ about what she is feeling as Marianne holds her and kisses her tension away. 

It’s nothing like what she had imagined. She needs a few moments to adjust to the stretch. Albeit mild, it is something she wasn’t used to and she has to consciously focus on relaxing her thighs which had clamped down involuntarily. But other than that light ache, Héloïse is shocked to realize she feels no pain, just like Marianne had promised. There is just pleasure and heat and the feeling of being closer to Marianne than ever before, a feeling matched in its intensity and intimacy only by what she felt touching Marianne, being inside her.

“Héloïse…” Marianne whispers again, still not moving and looking for a confirmation that Héloïse is okay after she failed to answer her question. Héloïse wouldn’t know how to answer though. Her mouth is dry, her mind fogged up by the burning heat between her legs. She blinks repeatedly, moving one hand to Marianne’s cheek and rubbing her thumb across her cheekbone. She doesn’t know how to reply if not with a kiss. Soft and lingering and grateful, Héloïse sighs into Marianne’s mouth and deepens the kiss, telling her everything she doesn’t know how to say with the glide of her lips.

Her body has completely relaxed into Marianne’s touch by the time the painter starts moving again, slowly pulling out and slipping back in with the same care used for the first push. Each movement forces a small sound out of Héloïse’s throat, as the pleasure she is feeling mutates from rolling waves into sharps zings of pure need. It’s Marianne’s smile that makes her aware of how her body has started to respond, her hips rolling into Marianne’s touch and following the movement of her hand. Héloïse lets herself feel it all, she relinquishes control of her own body and simply _feels_ what Marianne is making her feel, lost and yet incredibly aware of everything, the coil in her belly, the twitching of her muscles around Marianne’s finger.

She moans freely when Marianne leans down and starts sucking at a sensitive spot on her neck, her lips and tongue sending a stab of pure pleasure down to her core. She slides her hands up and down Marianne’s back as Marianne pleasures her, her need to touch just as strong as her need to be touched, and when Marianne leans back again, Héloïse moves a hand across her torso and cups her breast again, kneading at it in a way that makes Marianne sigh and laugh quietly. She never loses sight of her movements between Héloïse’s legs though, and soon enough, Héloïse finds herself trembling, the heat and the tightness she feels inside now close too unbearable. 

She feels herself teetering on the edge of something unknown, something so intense thatit promises to annihilate her. The instinct to pull back and stop crawls up to her for a moment, but flashes of Marianne shaking and moaning uncontrollably pass through her mind, and the desire to know what she felt, to know what happens when coil in her core snaps, wins above everything else. While she still has some hold on reality she locks gaze with Marianne and begs her. 

“Look at me.”

And Marianne does, staring back at Héloïse with her lips parted, breathing as heavily as Héloïse is. She is mesmerizing in Héloïse’s eyes, a work of art she wishes she could put on a canvas and cherish forever, and for a moment she wonders if that’s how she had looked like to Marianne while she was pleasuring her. 

Marianne doesn’t let her get lost in her thoughts, though, and Héloïse’s mind suddenly goes blank when Marianne stops the slow thrusting motion and instead starts curling her finger inside her.

The new motion triggers a surge of pleasure so intense that Héloïse finds herself unable to breathe. She can’t speak, can’t think, all she can do is cling to Marianne as her body trembles violently, the edge she is stuck on growing more and more unsustainable with each upward curl of Marianne’s finger. Marianne surprises her yet again, though, showing her that there is no limit to the pleasure her body can experience, and when the painter maneuvers her hand to press her thumb over Héloïse’s bundle of nerves, the combination of the two feelings at once is so excruciatingly delicious it brings tears to her eyes.

Marianne keeps her suspended for what seems like a lifetime to Héloïse. She is vaguely aware that the painter is murmuring words of reassurance to her, she can feel her breath on her cheek and her lips, but she can’t focus enough to hear what she is saying. She wants to tell Marianne that it’s too much, she wants to beg her, wants to tell her she loves her, but every sounds remains stuck in her throat, locked like the rest of her body. It’s torture and bliss at once, she feels suspended at the extreme point of pleasure and at the same time being unstoppably pulled towards something that promises to be even more overwhelming.

And with one final, harder curl of Marianne’s finger, the tight coil of pressure in her core bursts open and Héloïse tumbles over the edge. Her vision blurs with the explosion of pleasure that invests her body in waves, each stronger then the one before. All the sounds she hadn’t been able to release before push out of her mouth and she moans and gasps against Marianne’s face, squeezing her eyes shut despite her best resolution. It doesn’t end in one moment, the release of tension stretches through the seconds, a type of ecstasy so absolute that Héloïse wonders if she is ever going to come back from it.

But as attentively as she had built Héloïse up, Marianne also brings her back with the same care and tenderness. Héloïse doesn’t know how long has passed but eventually her body grows slack, boneless and trembling in Marianne’s arms. Her breathing is just as ragged and heavy, hitching up with each involuntary twitch of her muscles around Marianne’s finger, now still inside of her. She opens her eyes only when she feels Marianne carefully pull out of her and cup her between her legs. Bright spots dance before her and she blinks repeatedly to get them out of her vision. The feeling of a thumb delicately rubbing at her cheekbone helps her regain focus and once she finally looks up, Marianne’s smile enters her vision. 

“Hi,” the painter whispers.

Suddenly, Marianne is all Héloïse can focus on. Even as her body is still shaken by light tremors, even while still overwhelmed by what she just experienced, Marianne overpowers everything else, filling her mind and her heart and making it beat even stronger than it already is. She moves her hands to Marianne’s face, pushing her dark hair back and cupping her cheek, unable to do anything except looking at the woman who gave her the most intense experience of her life.

She pushes up from the pillow and kisses Marianne when the painter’s smile widens. She can taste Marianne’s joy on her lips, she can taste her own, when Marianne rolls down next to her without breaking the kiss and pulls her into her arms, their bodies pressed together. 

A smile stretches over Héloïse's face as they kiss, it grows even wider and uncontainable once she pulls back just enough to look at Marianne. She has never felt a happiness so complete before, such an absolute bliss in body and soul.

“So this is what it feels like,” she whispers to herself, but Marianne’s eyes widen and shine with an understanding glint, telling Héloïse that the painter knows exactly what she is talking about, that she perfectly remembers the question Héloïse had asked her days ago.

Marianne doesn’t say anything about it, she just smiles and kisses Héloïse again. She does it softly at first, but then she grins and presses her lips against Héloïse’s again, keeping their mouths glued together long enough that Héloïse starts laughing into the kiss, immediately followed by Marianne once they finally break apart to breathe.

Héloïse gets on top of Marianne, grinning wide and happy at the sight of the girl lying underneath her. Marianne is laughing too, they share the same happiness, and Héloïse leans down and kisses her again because Marianne is too beautiful not to, because she can.

“Let’s do it again,” Héloïse says and Marianne pulls her back down, tasting the smile on her lips yet again, and never tired of it.


End file.
